


Water

by astudyinpanda



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-18
Updated: 2015-02-18
Packaged: 2018-03-13 13:31:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3383357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astudyinpanda/pseuds/astudyinpanda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This apartment is the only place Bucky feels safe, even though the person making it safe is probably going to poison him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Water

**Author's Note:**

  * For [caughtinanocean](https://archiveofourown.org/users/caughtinanocean/gifts).
  * Inspired by [You look like you're in pain.](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/99107) by caughtinanocean. 



> This takes place in about a minute of the lovely ficlet above which I keep finding my way back to. Thank you for writing it, caughtinanocean! I hope you like/don't mind this.

Breath rasped. Head throbbed. The asset was exhausted from thirst, or the blood lost getting here.

The man on the bridge, who rolled a water bottle across his apartment's wood floor to the asset's side, couldn't miss this chance to assert control.

The man -- Steve, his name was Steve -- wasn't the asset's handler, exactly. But he'd see the asset's weakness. The asset would obviously not have come to Steve's apartment if he had a safe place to tend his wounds. 

Anything could be in water Steve gave him. Well, anything which dissolved completely, because it looked clear. It could be a slow poison, or a fast one, or something to drive him mad, to make him obey.

The asset unscrewed the cap with the human hand. Making the metal arm do the hard work of holding the bottle hurt less. The water smelled clean. He couldn't help imagining it flowing over his tongue, down his throat. This desire would be punished if discovered, like all the rest he could remember (and those he couldn't, черт, he only knew he had wanted). The clean scent ruled out a few drugs, at least.

He would die without water. If it was poisoned, he'd die faster. That was fine. If it knocked him out, well, he couldn't be much more vulnerable than he already was. And if it were one of the other drugs... Steve was safe. Somehow the asset knew Steve would only punish him, not strap him into the chair. If whatever was in the water made the asset obey Steve, that was better than the thirst.

The asset barely finished the thought before he was drinking the water. The first long, desperate gulp soothed his dry lips, his throat, cool but not freezing, soft, smooth. His second gulp emptied the bottle. It tasted better than any water he remembered.

Perhaps that was the beginning of the drug's effect.

He set the bottle on the floor and concentrated on his body's reactions, past the relief, past the pain of his wounds. No new pain flared to replace the thirst. No convulsions. His muscles seemed steadier, if anything, than they had before.

His heart rate was up, though, and he felt more alert by the second. That'd be fine until hypersensitivity kicked in and every scratch became agony, every sound deafening. He stilled, barely breathed, shut his eyes because light would stab through them like knives, if it was that drug. That was a smart choice. After minimal effort Steve could have the asset begging for the antidote, but pain came first.

"Please let me take care of you, Buck."

Steve's voice didn't hurt the asset's ears. He breathed in to steady himself and his gut wound reminded him how he'd ended up in this position to begin with. He opened his eyes. Steve waited a moment, then stepped forward. The asset held his position. Steve hadn't taken advantage of the obvious attack, with the water. 

Maybe... _Maybe..._ Steve wasn't going to hurt him at all.


End file.
